


Touch

by GaHoolianGirl



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Pining Spock, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6604828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GaHoolianGirl/pseuds/GaHoolianGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>touch: verb</i>
  <br/>
  <i>1. come so close as to be or come into contact with it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>love: noun</i>
  <br/>
  <i>1. an intense feeling of deep affection</i>
  <br/>
  <i>alt: the touching of two hearts</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> This is a behemoth of a fic for me! I only have a few longer than it. I hope I did Spock justice. This doesn't have a particular time or place in the canon, so you can pick that.

Touch was already a primary method for Vulcan communication, and layered with the human meanings for touch (protection, aggression, affection, lust), Spock found that touch was a confounding and endlessly frustrating concept that he was logically forced to use on a regular basis.

Not every life form (most prominently human) is going to understand when they should logically stop moving forward in fits of passion or rage; then, logically, he must grasp them to keep them still and to prevent unnecessary violence or bring unwanted attention upon themselves.

Not every life form (humans again come to mind) is going to cease attacking you simply on the knowledge that violence is illogical; logically, then, he must nerve pinch or strike them for self preservation. If he is incapacitated the situation would only worsen.

Touch served him in more than instances of self defense or duty. For their very illogical emotional nature, humans require emotional comfort to function. Simply saying “this reaction serves you no purpose”, in his observation, increases the likelihood of a more prolonged and stronger reaction. A hand on the shoulder (with the proper mental barriers up, of course) served to quell their need for outbursts and return them to optimal function.

Touch also served a function for which he could find no logical explanation, and it only served to fulfill the concept’s human connotations. He could possibly construct some explanation as to why it served a Logical and Reasonable purpose, but to do so would only discredit the terms.

Touch’s fourth purpose had a name; James Kirk.

He was his Captain, and following the definition of the word, his superior. There were no Starfleet regulations that stated crew members could not have relationships amongst themselves, but it would set a precedent for the rest of the crew, and leave room for accusations of favoritism among the ship’s ranks. That could further lead to claims against the Captain, which could lose him his command, the one thing he cherished above all else.

...those were the logical reasons that Spock should be deterring himself from this path with.

However, some emotional draw pulled him towards the man, some remnant of his human physical and mental biology.

...that same biology told him, in the corners of his mind, that even if he were fully Vulcan, there would be some undeniable force that drew him towards James T. Kirk.

The touches began simply, a hand on his shoulder from Kirk. He would linger there for a moment, gaze analyzing Spock’s reactions. “ _Is he drawing away?”_ he read in the human’s eyes. No matter what his brain told him he should logically do, he did not draw away. Kirk would pat his shoulder and walk away, smiling a satisfied and mysterious smile.

When Kirk was lost in thought or his attention was likewise diverted, before he could process his own action, Spock would reach a hand out and brush it against his sleeve. The Captain would raise an eyebrow and turn, smiling the same smile that Spock objectively understood but still caused an unfamiliar feeling to collect in his lower gut.

These minor moments of touch weighed on his mind until he found he could go no longer without confronting it in the only way he knew how; straightforwardly, with logic and reason.

“Captain, may I have a word later?”

That same smile, which was not touch but elicited the same human sensations in him, “For you, Mr. Spock? Of course.”

They say no more, yet Spock plays out the scene in his head; an illogical reaction, for he can have no bearing on how the moment will go.

_“Spock? You’ve been imagining it. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”_

_“We’re simply colleagues, Mr. Spock.”_

_“Even if it were there, our positions would allow for no such thing.”_

The mental Captain’s vernacular began to bleed in with Spock’s and lose what made them _Kirk._ He tried to throw those thoughts away with all the other unnecessary ones, gripping his comm tightly and attempting to force the sensation to override his surface thoughts. His Vulcan training to retain the sanctity of the mind played against him, and they stuck, nagging at him like his childhood nightmares.

“You needed to speak with me?”

The Captain’s real voice was the only thing that served to dispel his fabricated one. Their shift seemed to have ended, and Spock had lost himself in his thoughts. He internally berated himself for his misconduct and planned strict meditation when available.

“Yes, I did. Somewhere more private would be preferable, Captain.”

“My quarters, perhaps?” Spock didn’t know if the invitation in his tone was another product of his deceptive mind.

“Certainly.”

The walk to the Captain’s quarters was agonizingly uneventful. He focused on his own footsteps and their steady nature. _One, two, one, two,_ no variations, easily understandable and logical.

He had been in Kirk’s quarters innumerable times, for updates and emergencies and other instances related to work, but now, that very same door caused a shiver of...nervousness (it would illogical to deny that was what the slight tinge was) to crawl up his back. Kirk beckoned him in one hand and he followed simply by habit, the door sliding shut behind them. Kirk leaned his hip against the table with his arms crossed.

The Captain’s tone was now patient and encouraging, “What is it you wanted to tell me, Spock?”

“It is...a personal matter.”

“Please, go ahead. We’re off-duty, for the moment,” Kirk stood up straighter, but his face was still sympathetic, “I’m willing to listen.”

Spock folded his hands behind his back and squeezed them together, speaking in a monotone that sounded clipped and forced, even for him, “It is of the matter of our relationship. There are moments when I believe as though it crosses certain unspoken borders,” his voice wobbled as it only could in the presence of his Captain, “I would like to clarify it.”

Kirk put both hands on his hips, biting his bottom lip and looking to the ceiling, before dropping his gaze back to Spock, “What...borders do you believe we are crossing, Mr. Spock?”

If Spock speculated that he himself was nervous, there was no denying that Kirk was in this moment. His words were an invitation for Spock to set the boundaries of the conversation; a basic rhetorical strategy.

“There are moments, when our, points of contact seem less than,” he closed his eyes and reopened them, “professional.”

“You are very astute, as always, Spock,” he sighed, pushing back his bangs with the tips of his fingers, “If I’ve made you uncomfortable, Spock. I can-”

Spock shook his head, his brow furrowing about his inability to articulate his thoughts, something he prided himself on (as much as pride was a “human emotion”), “I think it would be-” he paused, thinking that, perhaps, illogic was the only logic for the situation, “I desire for it to proceed further in that direction.”

Kirk froze, hand buried in his hair. He untangled his fingers, balling his hand into a fist, “Are you telling me you wish to...pursue a relationship of some sort with me, Spock?”

“Yes.”

His answer was so simple and honest that it startled them both. Kirk for its promptness and Spock for how earnestly he meant it. Neither of them spoken again for approximately 5.6 seconds (Spock unconsciously counted, because if anything put him at ease, it was calculation), until Kirk took a tentative step forward.

“I’d ask you if you were sure, but, when aren’t you?”

_You would express surprise if you knew my thought process just moments ago._

“Spock, may I...” Kirk bit his lip again, taking another half-step forward, “May I touch you?”

“Sir?”

“If this is to ‘proceed in that direction’, you can very well take the first step and call me my name,” his words were teasing but his tone encouraging.

“Jim...” the name felt unfamiliar in this context. It was usually reserved for situations in which they were both in mortal danger. But familiarity did not bring the discomfort he had always credited it to; now it brought a pleasant sensation, though that could be correlated to his situation as a whole.

“You have my permission, Jim.”

With a wide smile, Kirk’s hesitant steps became strides until he was nearly chest-to-chest with Spock. He placed a confident hand on his broad chest, the right side, where his heart was, feeling it’s pulsations.

“Is there a reason for what you’re doing?”

Kirk laughed softly, a sound that was no surprise to Spock, but a pleasant one nonetheless, “It’s an illogical human tradition. A reassurance that your loved one is still breathing.”

Spock’s eyebrow rose, but bite his tongue on pointing out the gesture’s illogical nature, as Kirk---Jim already took it upon himself to point out, and he didn’t want to “ruin the moment” as Dr. McCoy often accused him of doing.

“There was something I saw your parents doing, Spock...” Jim reached his hand down, brushing his fingers against Spock’s. Though all his mental barriers were functioning at near prime efficiency, the light tough sent pleasant feeling coursing through his hand, “It was a near equivalent for human kissing?”

“Though I would not so quickly apply a human equivalent to the concept, it does serve a similar social function to them, yes,” he wiggled his fingers against Jim’s, “Your inquiry leads me to believe you would like to learn the practice?”

“If it pleases you,” Jim said, not lacking in mirth.

Spock nodded, once more in his comfort zone of logical explanation, “It works best among those of similar biology, telepathic level, or for those bonded for many years. If done properly, it should serve here.”

He gingerly tapped Kirk’s hand, urging him to lift it into the air, where he met his fingers with his own. He spread the long appendages over his partners, lowering his mental shields just enough to allow for the connection to breach the surface. It was less mental pressure than a mind meld, but the feeling clearly flowed perfectly into Jim, whose hand began to tremble.

“How does your mother handle this every day?” Jim asked, not removing his hand.

“She has been doing it for 30 Earth years, and their bond is deeply rooted in their minds. I would likely not have been conceived if theirs was not a strong bond,” he slowly closed off his mind, retracting his hand, “We have not undergone any such process.”

Kirk smiled, presumably about the prospect of a future bond. “Permit me to show you the human way?”

“I have engaged in-”

“Yes, you may have, however,” he smirked and Spock felt a rush of attraction (he was contemplating lower his shields for this whole encounter),"You haven’t kissed me, Spock.”

“I fail to see-”

“You will, I assure you.”

Jim stood on the balls of his feet, reaching his hands up, and placing either right under both of Spock’s ears, drawing him near, “I’m going to kiss you.”

 _It is redundant to inform me of what you are clearly going to do regardless,_ Spock thought, but a small part of his brain appreciated the meaningless gesture. He closed his eyes as he remembered was customary, eyelashes slowly covering his view of Jim’s face.

Contrary to his hypothesis, kissing Jim was far better than those he had before. Many of those were under duress or long ago; but Jim’s lips were warm and evoked from him a myriad of feelings he usually tried to avoid. His hands felt to Jim’s side, fingers ghosting over his hips, and it took much of his self control not to grip him tightly, knowing all too well how he could bruise him.

Jim slid on hand up to play with the dark and silky strands of Spock’s hair, which sent a tingle down his neck. Slightly overwhelmed by the rush of emotion and feeling, Spock pulled himself away, a slight green flush on his sharp cheeks. Jim’s lips tugged back up in a smirk, and he ran his hands down Spock’s chest.

Every point of contact seemed to sizzle between them (Spock would later berate himself for such a description) as Spock looked down at his Captain---lover would be the proper human term to apply now--- and felt another surge of affection. Normally, such emotions would nearly physically  pain him, but now, though they exhausted him, seemed to even soothe him.

“Captain-”

“Back to Captain?” he laughed softly, “No need to exert yourself Spock. It must have been hard to even approach me, let alone let me touch you. We can talk about it tomorrow if that’d make it easier on you.”

“You are not concerned that it will affect my duties?”

Kirk laughed, and this time it was full and rich, “I have more faith in you than that, Mr.Spock. Now, please, rest.”

Spock paused, almost reluctant to leave the embrace, “I...thank you, Jim.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Spock. I got more than my fair share out of the deal. I never expected you to approach me, in all honesty, though I am glad for it.” As he spoke, Kirk gently guided him towards the door, “Now, please, rest, or meditate, whatever you need. I don’t want to explain to Bones why you’re unconscious in my room.”

As the door slid open, Spock grabbed Jim’s hand one more time; not in a Vulcan gesture nor an imitation of a human one. He let it fall from his grasp as Jim’s smile disappeared behind the metal door.

Touch was something physical to a Vulcan.

Touch was emotional for humans.

For Spock, touch was James T. Kirk.•

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I started to lose steam at the end, but I think it has a strong beginning.
> 
> Temporary: I am taking fic requests since I am coming upon 100 fics. Reach me at [my tumblr](http://gahooliangirl.tumblr.com/) or through my email, gahooliangirl@gmail.com. This is only for a short while, so if you'd like it, I suggest you hurry up!


End file.
